


Who's the Freshest One of All

by sasswolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sass, That's it, what else do you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:12:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasswolf/pseuds/sasswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter picks Jackson up from the airport. Sass ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's the Freshest One of All

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of impeterhaleandnoonelikesme's thoughts: _"i need peter picking up jackson from the airport because everyone’s busy putting his ‘welcome back’ party or whatever together and just sass. nothing but sass the whole way home."_
> 
> I do not think that I am near witty enough to have done these two justice, but it was fun all the same. :) Title is from Kat Graham's "Sassy".

Peter was unhappy. You would never know by the way he was postured in his seat like a king; legs crossed, head raised, and smiling pleasantly at each friendly-looking (or good-looking) passerby in the crowded airport. He was sitting in a chair, a very hard and awkwardly shaped plastic chair, that he had been attempting to make himself comfortable in for two hours now. Originally, he wasn't meant to wait long at all: Jackson's flight was supposed to arrive at 10 o'clock. That was before he had heard the announcement that the 10 o'clock plane from London was delayed on account of inclement weather. Typical.

Finally, after seemingly ages of trying to ignore his half-sore-half-numb rear end, he smelled the familiar scent of Beacon Hills High's former Lacrosse co-captain wafting towards him from a short distance away. Soon, Jackson's head came into view, then his soft cardigan covered torso, then his designer jeans followed by his no-doubt genuine leather-clad feet. London had done him good, fashion-wise. Peter was sort of jealous.

The older man could tell the exact moment when Jackson caught his scent. His face scrunched up in his all-too well-worn scowl and he stuck out his tongue like he was gagging on some disgusting smell. 

"God, not you." he spit. He was still a good 30-or-so feet away in the crowd, but Peter could hear him clearly. He smiled in response.

"I was nominated for pick-up duty." he said, attempting to look as endearing as possible, like he hadn't once impaled the boy on his own claws. Mainly because he knew how much Jackson hated it. He stood up, grateful for the feel of blood rushing back to his backside. Really, that chair was terrible.

"Where's Lydia?" he asked, dumping his carry-on into Peter's arms without so much as a "please" or "thank you".

"Derek's." Peter replied. "But I can't say why." He resisted the urge to wink. Was he being intentionally obvious? No. Did he care enough to keep the surprise? Also no. As far as he was concerned, Jackson didn't even deserve a surprise welcome-back party, but who was he to judge.

Jackson snorted, rolling his eyes. He obviously knew Lydia well enough to know what to expect. "Whatever." he grimaced, like even breathing enough of the same air as Peter to speak was something he wanted to avoid. "Let's not keep her waiting."

"This way, monsieur." the older man flourished (as well as he could with Jackson's stuff, anyway) and began to lead the boy in the direction of his car as if he were a chauffeur. Jackson rolled his eyes so hard Peter was sure that he would have done some damage if not for his werewolf physiology. Unsurprisingly, and to Peter's utter delight, Jackson kept a fair distance between them the whole way to the parking lot as if being seen associating with this man in public would cause him physical pain.

When they reached the car, Peter relieved Jackson of his luggage, seemingly with the utmost care, and then proceeded to toss it unceremoniously into the trunk, earning a glare and a humorously unthreatening growl from the pampered teen. He smiled again and gestured toward the passenger-side door with a bow before heading to his own spot in the driver's seat.

As Peter started up the car and pulled out of the airport, he could tell that Jackson was resolutely not looking at him. His passenger was looking out of the window, arms crossed and jaw tightly clenched. It was clear to him that the boy was planning to avoid speaking or even acknowledging his existence for a long as he could manage. That simply would not do.

"So, Jackson..." Peter began, ready to fire off as many of the lizard and/or co-captain status zingers that he had thought up in his spare time and was just dying to use since Jackson left. He was interrupted before he had the chance, however.

"Shut up, creep." Jackson spat. "You're lucky I'm not still back at the airport speaking with the authorities. We might as well be riding in a big white van that says "FREE CANDY" on the side."

Peter was taken aback. What in the world was this brat trying to imply? "Excuse me?" he said, still smiling, speaking with an air of sophisticated incredulousness. "How exactly have you come to that opinion?" he asked.

"You're creepy." Jackson sneered in reply. "And that fuzz on your face doesn't help, either."

Peter barked out a laugh. "No need to worry, Jackson. As I recall, you've already spent your fair share of time locked in a van." he chuckled. "Do I need to put you in handcuffs now, too? Or have you matured enough during your time overseas to have developed the simple amount of impulse control necessary to not attempt to slaughter those trying to assist you?"

That stung him. Maybe because of the kanima reference, or maybe because he had just pointed out that Peter was doing him a favor: a favor that he could just as soon take back while leaving the teenager and his belongings sitting on the side of the road. The man hoped he got that message, anyway.

"You're one to talk." Jackson was getting defensive, now. He was ready to make some low blows. "At least I didn't murder one of my only living relatives to gain power that I could only hold onto for two seconds before I was beaten by some teenagers." he said in one breath, with an obvious tone of "try beating that one, loser".

"Now Jackson." Peter drawled, turning his head in an exasperated manner to face the teen. "You've lost track of the conversation. That is entirely irrelevant to the topic of vans." He smiled, earning a mildly shocked and displeased expression from the boy sitting next to him. "Obviously, the jet-lag is getting to you." He continued. "Why don't you take a nap? Go to sleep. I can even record a video of it if you'd like." Boom.

Jackson's cheeks turned scarlet, no doubt resulting from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Peter was betting on mostly embarrassment, though.

"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until you get inside. We're here." he said as he slammed on the breaks, causing Jackson, who was unprepared for the sudden stop, to nearly hit his head off the dashboard. Peter resisted the urge to laugh as he popped the trunk before gliding out of his seat and starting to head inside, leaving Jackson to carry his own things.

All he heard from behind him was a halfhearted "Jackass..." and a few more grunts and growls before he sauntered the building, not bothering to wait.


End file.
